


if you don’t have your own sister, store bought is fine

by alittleunstable



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A wild goose chase? Maybe, Ciri is enjoying her adventure vm, Fix-It, Gen, Geralt is frustrated, M/M, Pre-Relationship, geralt is so far in denial it’s unbelievable, no beta we die like renfri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23529775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittleunstable/pseuds/alittleunstable
Summary: Geralt goes looking for Jaskier after he finds Ciri, but everyone keeps trying to point him towards Jaskier’s sister. Jaskier doesn’t have a gods damned sister.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Priscilla
Comments: 13
Kudos: 448





	if you don’t have your own sister, store bought is fine

The first month with Ciri is...difficult, to say the least. Geralt has no idea what he is doing at any given time, which seems to infuriate Yen, amuse Lambert and make Eskel wince every two minutes. He’s  _ trying  _ okay, he was never meant to be a parent, of all things. Vesemir is the only one who seems sympathetic to his predicament, but even then, the man is great with Ciri, and Geralt can’t help the jealousy. 

It’s Vesemir that suggests it. A trip to Oxenfurt, in disguise of course, so that Ciri can feel normal for a few days and Geralt can bond with her. Ha. Geralt thinks the whole thing is pointless, he’ll drag the princess to the market, maybe listen to some music, come back and everything will be exactly the same. 

But Ciri looks at him with hopeful eyes and he hates how that gets to him, reminding him so much of Jaskier, and he relents. 

It’s not until they arrive in Oxenfurt that Geralt even considers the possibility of running into Jaskier, and not even until he overhears two comely women giggling about having heard Jaskier play the night before. 

Geralt stiffens, Ciri pausing in place when she senses his tense posture, looking very concerned.

“Is something happening?” She asks in a whisper, eyeing the bustling crowd around them with alarm. He shakes his head and his face tightens. 

“No, nothing to worry about.” 

“You look worried about something,” Ciri disagrees with a frown of her own. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

“An old friend is in the area, that’s all.” He grumbles, knowing well enough that if they were friends before, they’re definitely not anymore, not after what Geralt did on the mountain. He ignores the way his chest tightens at the thought. 

“Jaskier?” Ciri asks softly, eyes hopeful, and Geralt stares at her, surprised. “Yennefer said he might be. I...I hoped to see him, even just for a moment.”

Geralt has no idea what to say to that, but ends up with, “You know him?”

Ciri looks wistful and sad at the same time, “He used to come and play for me on my birthday. He was nice - funny, brought me peasant clothes once when I mentioned how much I wanted to get out of the castle for a bit.”

Geralt’s heart twists. Of course, of course Jaskier would take responsibility where he wouldn’t, of course Jaskier would keep an eye on his child surprise for him. He swallows and looks away. “I’m sorry, Princess, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

Ciri’s expression turns overcast. “But why? He won’t tell anyone-“

“I know,” Geralt quickly cuts her off, he has no doubt of Jaskier’s loyalty, but - “He won’t want to see me.”

“Why not?” 

“I hurt him.” Geralt grunts, looks away uncomforably. He didn’t plan on having an emotional discussion today, not that he ever would, Melitele, this is shit. 

“Well, no time like the present to make up.” Ciri decides, and smiles gently. “I’m sure if you apologise it’ll be fine. Please, Geralt?” 

“Fine.”

..

The next time he overhears someone say Jaskier’s name, he gets up from his table at the tavern and marches right over to the three men, knowing just how much of a disaster this has the potential to be. 

“The bard, Jaskier. Where is he?” 

The men stare blankly at him for a moment, before one of them, an older dwarf with a red beard and weathered skin eyes him warily and asks, “Who wants to know?” 

Geralt grinds his teeth. “An old friend.”

“Aye, an old friend indeed.” The man somehow makes it sound like an insult, and Geralt has a feeling this man definitely knows more than he’s letting on. 

“Should we kick his arse?” One of the other two asks, clearly far more inebriated than the others, and the dwarf hits him over the head. 

“Shut up, Dudu. You couldn’t kick anyone’s arse anyway.” 

Geralt has definitely had enough of this shit. Gods, if this wasn’t for Jaskier’s sake.

“Tell me where he is.” Geralt growls, and then sees the red bearded dwarf’s deep frown and adds, “Please.” Which sounds more threatening than he intends, but the dwarf chuckles at that. 

“Please, he says,” He snorts, “A Witcher saying please. Only Jaskier, I’m tellin’ ya,” He shares an amused grin with the other two and then turns his gaze back on a seething Geralt. “Zoltan Chivay,” He introduces himself gruffly, “You best take better care of our dandelion this time around, Witcher.” 

Geralt ignores the lump in his throat in order to hold onto his irritation instead. He doesn’t care, he’s doing this for Ciri, not Jaskier. Obviously. He just nods, and Zoltan seems to accept that. 

“He and his sister are heading to Novigrad in a few days time, so you’d best make haste. Saw him last playin’ at the three little bells. You’d have better luck askin’ round there.” 

It’s not enough information. That’s why it takes him a moment to process, and then he scowls. “Jaskier doesn’t have a sister.” 

Zoltan grins. “Aye, he does. Lovely girl.” With this said, the other two attempt to hide their snickering. “They get along so well.” More snickers. Fuck this. 

He storms back to the table, chugs his entire mug of ale, and then looks at Ciri with determination. 

“We’re going to three little bells. Come on.”

Ciri beams. 

...

“You’re looking for Jaskier?” The tavern owner asks, eyeing Geralt suspiciously, and looking at Ciri with poorly disguised concern. He’s sick of starting almost every conversation with the words, ‘I am not a kidnapper’. 

“Yes,” Ciri interrupts, looking at Geralt with exasperation, “He’s an old friend of ours, and it’s been some time since we last saw him. We were hoping to catch up with him, you see.” She aims her biggest, saddest eyes at the tavern owner and Geralt watches in bafflement as the man softens like butter left in the sun. 

“Oh, well why didn’t you say?” He asks with a gentle smile aimed at the princess, and Geralt wonders if they wouldn’t have had more success with girls as Witchers instead, seeing as all of them seem to be capable of doing whatever the fuck that was to men and women alike. Geralt can only resort to Axii, and even then he has to prepare for a fight should anyone catch on. 

“Yeah, he was ‘ere last night,” The tavern owner continues, still under Ciri’s thrall, “He and Callonetta, they performed for hours, made decent coin, too. For siblings I swear those two couldn’ look any different,” The man snorts, and okay, Geralt doesn’t know if there‘s something in the water here or what. 

“Jaskier doesn’t have a sister,” He repeats his earlier words, and the tavern owner startles, as if he’d forgotten Geralt was there as well, and then scowls at him. 

“Well clearly ‘e does, or else am I imaginin’ the other bard, then?” He snaps, and Geralt sighs as Ciri glares up at him as well. 

“My apologies.” He grumbles, not sounding very apologetic at all. “Do you know where they went?” 

The man grumbles for a moment but relents, “I think they were spendin’ the night at the inn across from the barber. The duckling, it’s called.” 

“Thank you very much, sir.” Ciri beams, and grabs ahold of Geralt’s arm eagerly, “Come on, we’re so close now!” She whispers, excited, and it suddenly hits Geralt that this is the happiest he’s seen her since they met, eyes shining and fingers squeezing his bicep with more strength than he’d been expecting. For some reason, this is fun for her, and she truly must be looking forward to seeing Jaskier. It’s for this reason only that Geralt doesn’t tell her to let it go, that it’s more trouble than it’s worth, and he allows her to pull him along. 

...

“Jaskier and Priscilla were here, yes,” The elderly innkeeper says agreeably, not even flinching at the sight of a Witcher in her inn, which just goes to show she has no sense. She’s got the fake sister’s name wrong, even. 

“They  _ were _ ?” Ciri asks, deflating slightly, a pout on her lips. “But not anymore?” 

This is turning into a joke, Geralt thinks angrily to himself. Fucking Jaskier. Can’t stay in one spot longer than a few hours. It’s so typical of him, and yet Geralt had truly thought he’d be here, and now — fuck. His stomach drops at the news that he’s gone, for Ciri’s sake, of course. 

“No, little one,” The innkeeper smiles consolingly at Ciri, “they’ve not been gone long though, mind you.” 

“They haven’t?” Geralt doesn’t perk up at all, don’t be ridiculous. 

The innkeeper looks amused for only a flash of a moment before nodding. “Aye, not long after lunch. Two of ‘em bickering away like children, their parents surely had a handful with them, I’ll say.” 

Geralt clamps his teeth shut to resist pointing out, yet again, that Jaskier _does not_ _have a sister_.  Instead he just glares. Glaring is always easier than talking. 

Ciri stealthily pinches his arm when the innkeeper isn’t looking at motions at him to cut it out. Geralt winces, but drops the glare, just in time for the woman to turn back around from serving a drink to a man down the bar. 

“Do you know where they might’ve gone?” Ciri asks, sounding very much like she knows that if they haven’t caught up by now, they probably won’t. She sounds defeated, and Geralt feels something in his chest constrict. No, no, this isn’t the end of the line. They’ll find Jaskier if they have to follow him to Novigrad. For Ciri’s sake. Obviously. 

“Yes, actually,” The woman says, and Geralt resists the urge to shake her. Why wouldn’t she lead with that? “S’why they was arguing, see, ‘cause Priscilla wanted to compose by the docks and Jaskier wanted to compose in thinker’s park, cross from the academy. Priscilla won, o’course, sisters always do.”

Geralt feels hope flare for the first time since they left the first tavern, they really are close now. He’s going to need to start considering his apology seriously, though if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t think any apology will be enough. Not after the way Jaskier had looked as Geralt had said the things he did. 

“Thank you so much, really!” Ciri beams, and then looks up at Geralt with bright eyes, “Let’s go! Come on!” 

...

The docks is a very generic location, Geralt is realising, as they make it half way down one side with no sign of his bard. His former bard. Whatever. 

“Any minute now,” Ciri says with determination, and Geralt thinks she’s trying to convince herself more than him, when he catches the scent. 

Honey and parchment, just the slightest hint of it in the air, but Geralt’s head snaps up and his nostrils flare and Ciri’s eyes widen. 

“Is it- Can you smell him?” 

“Hmm.” He follows the scent, holding onto Ciri’s arm to better weave her in and out of the crowd, past scowling peasants and cheerful merchants until he sees —

“See, I told you the docks would be a bad idea, it’s far too busy and we can’t even see the water, but noooo, you just  _ had  _ to compose here, where we can’t even hear ourselves think!”

“Oh, if only I couldn’t hear you,” A woman’s voice overlaps Jaskier’s, and Geralt stops and blinks, arm still around Ciri, as the two glare at each other. Well. Maybe the town wasn’t suffering from a strangely specific hysteria after all, because Jaskier is clearly arguing with a blonde woman, who’s dressed just as bawdily as him, Jaskier in blue and the girl in green. 

Geralt ignores the way his heart picks up at the sight of the bard. It’s nothing. 

“That’s rich, considering you said my voice was like velvet just this morning!” 

“That’s because it is! You’re a great singer!” The woman yells the compliment rather aggressively, and even Ciri looks up at Geralt in bafflement at that. 

“Well so are you!” Jaskier says back just as irately, “You’re the most talented woman I’ve ever known!” 

“You’re a self absorbed prick,” The insult is said fondly, and the woman is smiling, this whole conversation is so  _ backwards  _ Geralt can’t wrap his head around it at all. 

“Control freak.” Jaskier says back just as fondly, and then clears his throat with a sigh. “I suppose it wouldn’t be  so  awful to compose here.”

Ciri must decide it’s safe to intervene now, because she barrels out of Geralt’s grip, slackened in his confusion, and tackles Jaskier from behind, laughing joyously, and if that isn’t a wonderful sound. Geralt stands awkwardly, uncertain now, as Jaskier turns and lights up in delight when he recognises Ciri. 

“My darling!” Jaskier beams, squeezing her tight, “My precious gem, what on earth are you doing here?” He pulls back, looks at her with concern now, “Are you safe?” 

“Yes, yes, I’m safe,” Ciri nods rapidly, her dyed brown curls bouncing. “I’ve missed you so much, Jaskier,” 

The blonde woman sees Geralt before Jaskier does and crosses her arms, frowning. 

“You, Witcher.” She calls, and Geralt flinches as Jaskier’s head jerks up, expression open and vulnerable and gods, Geralt should have thrown himself off the mountain. There’s so much pain, and even the slightest bit of fear, when Geralt sniffs, radiating off of the bard. “Come and speak with us like civilised folk.” 

Geralt follows the instruction blindly, moving forward even as he sees Jaskier’s grip on Ciri grow tight, his expression pained. 

“Geralt.” Jaskier acknowledges, voice uneven. 

“Jaskier.”

Priscilla or Callonetta, whichever her name is, rubs at Jaskier’s shoulder gently.

Fuck. This was a bad idea. 

“Well?” Priscilla/Callonetta prompts, looking frustrated now, and Ciri is watching it all with worried eyes. “Are you going to say anything or are you going to keep staring at him like he created the skies?” 

Geralt hates that he feels his cheeks heat at her words. “I...I wanted to...” he swallows, looks away, clenches a fist and releases it. “What I said on the mountain,” 

Jaskier flinches and his gaze drops to his feet, “There’s no need-“

“There is.” Geralt says at the exact same time that Priscilla/Callonetta does, which is disconcerting to say the least. 

“It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t, it wasn’t  true , Jaskier. I...You were my best friend. I’m sorry for how I acted. I’m sorry for not calling you friend when I had the chance.” 

Jaskier stares at him for a long moment. “Well, an apology isn’t really enough.” 

Geralt’s eyes shut in defeat. Of course it isn’t. He should never have hoped- 

“No, no I think, you’d need to make it up to me over time.” 

Geralt opens his eyes and can’t help the hint of a smile that tugs at his lips when he sees the cheeky grin on Jaskier’s face.

“Yes, I think that’s a great idea.” Priscilla/Call- Fuck’s sake, he’s just going to ask her name. 

“Jaskier, I’ll do whatever you need from me, so long as it’s safe for Ciri, but who-“

Jaskier’s eyes widen and he smacks himself in the forehead, “Oh dear I’ve been terribly rude, haven’t I?” He says mostly to himself, “Priscilla, this is Ciri, an old friend from Cintra, a lion cubif you know what I mean-“

“Yes, I know what you mean. Gods, you’re not exactly subtle, Dandelion.” Priscilla hums, and smiles kindly at Ciri. 

“Yes, well,” Jaskier grumbles, “And this is Geralt of Rivia, Geralt, my sister Priscilla.”

Geralt takes in a deep breath. He lets it out.

“You don’t  _ have  _ a sister, Jaskier.”

Jaskier and Priscilla exchange an amused grin. “Well, true, I didn’t have one, but now I do.”  
  


Geralt resists the urge to explain to Jaskier how that is absolutely not how it works, but gives up. Because this is Jaskier; and the important part of all of this is that he’s talking to Jaskier again. 

“Perhaps you should get a sister Geralt, it might mellow you out.” 

Oh, for _fuck’s_ \- 

**Author's Note:**

> I think I might make this into a series maybe if people like it? Idk it’s kinda dumb but I just finished the game and I love priscilla sm


End file.
